Catchee Monkey: A Rex & Eddie Mystery (Rex & Eddie Mysteries Book 1) (12 page)

Jim Jams considered Eddie’s words. “Granted, that’s a possibility, but beer is buy one get one free from midnight to one. How pucker is that?”

“Jim Jams,” Rex said. “Do you have a car?”

“Sort of.”

“Oh good, can you give us a lift?”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“Wait,” Eddie said. “What does ‘sort of’ means?”

“It means I have access to a car. Or cars, plural.”

Rex gave a nod. “Perfect.”

Eddie folded his arms. “Explain.”

“My mate Phil works at the impound. We take the cars out for a ride sometimes. I can give him a bell, see if we can borrow a car.”

“A Morris Minor?” Eddie said.

“That’s a bit specific, but I’ll ask. Sure you don’t have a better preference.”

“Call your friend.”

“OK, let’s do it.” Jim Jams walked away from the door, leaving the line of confused punters awaiting entry.

Rex scratched his head. “What about your job?”

“Oh, this ain’t a job. I’m a volunteer.”

Eddie grimaced. “What does that mean?”

“Show up early enough, and everyone thinks you work there. I ask for ID and charge a fiver.”

“You mean you’re not collecting a cover charge?”

“Well, it covers my services.”

“And the pub knows about it?”

“God no. Let’s get going shall we.” Jim Jams walked off with a quick confident step. Rex and Eddie checked back at the line of people all patiently waiting. The pair shrugged it off and caught up with Jim Jams.

***

Thanks to Jim Jims, Rex and Eddie had the Morris Minor back and were headed towards Snodling. Jim Jams persuaded the pair to give him a ride to The Monte Carlo.
 

Eddie pulled up the car. “Jim Jams, we’re here.”

Rex looked back and saw Jim Jams asleep. “He’s taking a power nap.”

“Wake him up.”

“It’s not possible. The man is a walking chemistry experiment. You throw him off, and he’ll be out of balance for days, maybe weeks. Besides, he’s the heaviest sleeper I know.”

“Fine, he’ll have to come with us to Stacey’s, and we’ll drop him off when we come back.”

The Morris Minor navigated down the dark country lane. Tim’s gang had bashed in the headlights, so Jim Jams borrowed two torches from the impound and taped them to the car’s front. Although the lights helped, it was still hard with the lack of side mirrors and the fact that the passenger side windows had "wankers" sprayed over it.

"Eddie, do you think we should have taken a different car?”

"It's fine, we fixed the headlights. It’ll just take a few more miles to air out the smell of pee.”

"I just mean, aren't we wanted by murders and stuff? Aren't we sticking out?"

"I'm not stealing a car. Yes, there are gangsters and bent coppers after us, but I will not stoop to their level by stealing. I've got principles."

They pulled up outside Stacey’s house and knocked on the door. There was no answer. They tried again. A third knock, and a plump old lady opened the door.

“Yes, what is it?”

“We’re looking for Stacey Lawrence,” Eddie said. “We just have a few questions.”

“There is no Stacey here. It’s very late. Please leave,” she said.

“Do you know where she is? Did she leave any papers behind?”

“Please, I don’t know a Stacey. You’ll have to leave, or I’m calling the police.”
 

“We get it, she’s hiding. We’re in the same boat.”

The old lady slammed the door.

“Great, Brown will be here any second. We’ve got no leads, no proof, no money.”

Rex smiled. “We’ve got a pound.”

“What can we do with one pound?”

***

Rex and Eddie examined their options.
 

“We have the doctors and nurses,” the Indian shopkeeper said. “There is a football one, and then there's the casino card for the playing of the fruit machine.”

They stood over the shop counter examining the scratch card display.

“I like the fruit machine,” Rex said.

“The football one has a bigger prize,” Eddie said.

“I don’t like football.”

“Me neither.”

The Indian leaned over the counter. “When you make up your mind, you tell me. In the meantime, step aside for the customers, thank you, please.”

The pair shuffled to one side as a customer placed three bottles of vodka on the counter. It was Jim Jams.

“You’re awake,” Rex said.

“Yeah, I’m ready and raring to go. Shall we make our way to The Monte Carlo?”

“Did you lock up the car?” Eddie said.

Jim Jams crinkled his nose. “Does it lock up?”

Eddie checked the shop window to make sure the battered up car was safe. The lights of one of the taped on torches flickered.
 

“I think you need new batteries for one of those flashlights. Allow me.” Jim Jams grabbed a pack of batteries from the stand and placed them next to his vodka.

“What is that,” Eddie asked, “your weekly shop?”

“It’s for the weekend.”
 

Eddie stared.

“I’m gonna share it,” Jim Jams said.

The shopkeeper rang him up. “And some Absinth. And twenty fags, two packs. Oh, and a pack of skittles.”

Jim Jams paid over two hundred pounds, which cleared him of his night’s earnings.

“What’s the upset, fellas?”

“We have one pound left to our names. We thought we’d buy a scratch card and skip the country with the winnings.”

“Our friend won five grand and bought a new car,” Rex said.

Eddie mugged. “I wouldn’t call him a friend.”

Jim Jams bagged up his booze and cigarettes. “Scratch cards? You want to be careful. Those things can be addictive.”

“I think we’ll be fine,” Eddie said. “We’ve only got one pound to our name.”

“Get the fruit machine one. It has the lowest odds.”

Eddie checked the car. “It does?”

The Indian nodded. “The man is right.”

“We’ll take the fruit machine scratch card please.”

“Can I do the scratching, Eddie?” Rex took the card before Eddie could answer. “I think I should do it. I’m luckier. I won a school raffle once.”

“Once?”

“Have you ever won a raffle?”

“Fine, go on then.”

“What do we scratch with?”

Eddie checked his pockets and turned to Jim Jams.

“Sorry fellas, I’m back to zero.”

Eddie dug deep for the ten pence, their last coin, and handed it to Rex. Eddie read the instructions.

“According to the rules, we need three matching fruits on two lines to win a tenner. Three lines is five hundred. All four lines, and we win five thousand pounds.”

The first line was a bust: two plums and a watermelon slice. The next two had matches, three apples on one, three watermelon slices on the second. They had ten pounds to their name. If they got the fourth line, they would win five hundred pounds.

Eddie grinned. “That’s two plane tickets out of here.”

Rex scratched the first box. It was a lemon. He took a deep breath and scratched the second box. It was also a lemon. He scratched the third box.

“What is it?” Eddie said.
 

Rex stared at the card.

The Indian shook his fists. “Come on man. Tell us.”

“It’s a lemon,” Rex said.

 
Jim Jams nodded. “Nice.”

Eddie handed over the scratch card to the Indian. “Five hundred pounds please.”

“I can’t give you the money.”

“Why not?”

“Anything over two-fifty you have to send it in to the lottery commission. They’ll give you the money in two to three weeks.”

“What? We could be dead in two to three weeks,” Eddie said.

“That’s true for all of us,” Jim Jams said. “It’s all temporary.”

“Beautiful,” Rex said.

“Yes, thank you, Jim Jams. But that’s not very helpful.”

Eddie waved the ticket at the Indian. “How much would you buy it for?”

“Me? I can’t play. I’m a trader. If I won it would be invalid.”

“Jim Jams?”

“I’ll give you vodka and the skittles?”

Eddie clenched his teeth. “So if we won a tenner, we’d have a tenner right now.”

“Yes.”

“Kingdom for a horse,” Jim Jams said with a smile.

“Did you make that up?” Rex asked.

Eddie threw his hands up. “What am I supposed to do now? Wander the streets waving down black SUVs until one shoots me in the face?”

“I think that’s the opposite of what we want to do, Eddie.”

“This is your fault.”

“Easy there Eddie, Rex is doing his best.”

“How is it my fault?” Rex asked.

“You convinced me to do this. To invest my money, to rent a murder scene, you found the fake reward, chasing it with you is what got me into this mess. Why do I listen to you? Why am I friends with you?”

“That’s harsh,” Jim Jams said.

“It sounds like he has a point,” the Indian said.

“No, this is harsh. The only reason to stay anywhere near you right now is because I only have a fifty percent chance of getting shot when there are two targets.

Rex stood frozen.

“What have you got to say for yourself?” Eddie said.

“Lemon?” Rex mumbled.

“Oh, shut up.”

“Hey, you asked him to talk,” Jim Jams said. “Now fair enough, it wasn’t the best answer.”

“No. Lemon!” Rex’s eyes widened. “She didn’t know where the lemons were.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Stacey, she didn’t know where the lemons were.”

Eddie screwed up his face. “Right? And you still want a lemon tea?”

“She didn’t know where anything was.”

“That was odd.” Eddie said. “She didn’t know her way around her own kitchen?”

Rex grabbed Eddie’s shoulder. “It wasn’t her kitchen. Stacey Lawrence doesn’t live there.”

“She doesn’t live there,” they both said, jumping up and down.

Jim Jams and the Indian looked at each other with confusion. Jim Jams shrugged his shoulders, and the Indian went back to business.

“Harold said she never visited Derek at the office. Not once,” Eddie said.
 

“He didn’t even see her at Christmas.”

Eddie stopped jumping. “Why would you put up a reward for someone you didn’t like? A father you don’t even see at Christmas? Did she set us up?”

Rex stopped too. “She’s a bad person.”

“She is a bad person.” Eddie agreed. “We’ve got to speak to that old lady again.”

THIRTEEN

Eddie pressed the doorbell to Stacey Lawrence’s so-called house. Rex and Jim Jams stood behind him with folded arms, ready to intimidate. The old lady opened the door a crack.

“I’m calling the police.” She pushed the door closed. Eddie jammed his foot in. The door sprang back open as Eddie screamed in agony.

“That really hurt.”

The old lady huffed at him. “Well, you shouldn’t put your foot in there.”

“She’s got a point,” Rex added.

“Please, we know Stacey Lawrence doesn’t live here. But she was here this morning. She invited us.”

“That’s not possible.”

“Who was here? Did you let anyone in?”

“You’ve got the wrong house. My house had a film crew here.”

“A film crew?”

“A film producer rented the house last week, they came today for a re-shoot.”

“And you were here too?”

“They put me up in a fancy hotel. Oh it was nice, delicious scones.”

Jim Jams stepped forward. “Madam, we’re from the film crew.”

“You are?”

“Yes, I’m the director.”

“Oh yes, well you look very artsy.”

“Ah, you have a keen eye. You’d be good as a casting director.”

“I would?”

“Indeed, have you ever worked in the theatre, my dear?”

“I haven’t, no.”

“Never done a play?”

“Well, I was in the choir for a church nativity play.”

“And I’m sure even the great north star looked dim next to you.”

She blushed. “Oh my.”

“Now my dear, this man here,” he pointed at Eddie, “is my prop master, and unfortunately he’s quite the incompetent.”

“Excuse me?” Eddie said.

“I’ll hear no more of it, Eddie. You are forgiven.”

Eddie crossed his arms tight.

Jim Jams put his arm around the old lady. “My colleague here left some important props behind. Some papers. It’s very important that we retrieve them for tomorrow’s shoot. Have you seen any letters or other papers?”

“I haven’t, no.”

“May we come in and find them? Otherwise, I’ll be forced to fire this idiot monkey man.”

Eddie wanted to strangle Jim Jams but swallowed his pride.

“I have a wife and child,” Eddie added. “Or did, depends how the night goes.”

“You best come in.”

Inside, the three checked every surface for the evidence. The old lady brought in a tray of tea.

“I must say, it is odd to hear that name, Stacey Lawrence. That’s the name of the lady that used to live here.”
 

All three stopped searching and turned to the old lady.

“Do you know her?” Rex said. “Blonde hair, early thirties.”

“Oh no. She’d be in her forties now, she had brown hair. I’ve got a picture somewhere; she sent me a photo when she got settled.”

Eddie’s eyebrows lowered. “Settled?”

“Yes, she emigrated to Australia.”

Eddie, Rex, and Jim Jams huddled together.

“We were hired by an impostor. She's in Australia, that's why she never visited his office,” Eddie said.
 

The old lady brought out the photo. The real Stacey Lawrence was a plump brunette with a similar face to Derek Lawrence.

Rex scratched his head. “But if Stacey Lawrence is a middle-aged women in Australia, who hired us?"
 

"And why did she hire us? Or pick this house?” Eddie turned to the old woman. “Did the producer leave any contact info?”

“No, I’m afraid not. They just came, paid in cash and left. He was a lovely man. Tall, a bit boney. Pale face.”

“Brown,” Eddie said.

“No, I said pale.”

“Brown was the producer. He orchestrated the whole thing.”

“And he still found time to shoot a film,” Rex said.

Eddie pulled Rex aside and Jim Jams followed.

“The film is a cover. The real question is, why did they pick the real Stacey Lawrence’s house?”